Lost hope today

Capture (again)

I was captured, again, today. I had fallen asleep in the warehouse. I don’t know for how long. When I woke it was dark, and I could barely move. I ached from my cuts and bruises, and had not eaten in … I don’t know. For a while.

Note to Self: Stop complaining Rhonda!

I could see some light. It was torches, and I thought I was rescued. Then I heard the voices. The same guttural mouth-mess. The same coarse words in the same foul dialect. It was the same bastards that had been my jailors. That’s when I knew it was over, and I was done.

They started by getting my attention, by jamming the hot-end of one of the torches onto my arm. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that kind of pain before. Lucky for me, it was not my writing arm.

Then they dragged me about a mile to this new place, wherever it is. I guess it was too much trouble to carry me. I’m writing this while they talk to the boss to find out what to do with me. I’m hoping someone will find it after I’m gone.

They’re coming back.

A worse day

Escape

I’m sitting in a pool of stagnant water, in a warehouse somewhere in Partameer. I escaped today.

They came this morning as usual. I thought it was going to be another round of “beat the southerner”, but it looked like they’d had enough. Some guy — I couldn’t see him — was telling my usual three jailers to “get her the hell out of here, and take her to Naller.” Whoever this Naller is, it sounded like they were much more experienced at “extracting” information from unwilling folks like me. I’ll call it torture. Scared the hell out of me, but I didn’t get a chance to say anything because they quickly gagged me, blindfolded me, and tied my hands, and started taking me out of whatever place they had me in.

At first I felt wooden floors, and then we were outside. There was a slight wind.

They were leading me somewhere, I think down some alleyways or some place where buildings were close by on either side, and then all of a sudden, I heard the fight.

I found myself in the middle of it, and knocked to the ground. It sounded like quite a tussle, but I wasn’t going to wait around to see who won. I had no faith that anybody was on my side.

I managed to pull off the blindfold, and saw I was, in fact, in an alleyway. It was night, so it was dark. No street lights. I just ran. Nobody noticed. They were too busy beating on each other. I ran quite a ways. Turning a corner I tripped over something in the street (a dog carcass, I think). Got scratched up pretty bad, but it was also lucky. My view from lying face-down on the street I could see a small opening in the wall of the building next to me. I managed to crawl in, and just in time. I could hear several folk running by. They were looking for me.

Turns out I’m in a cold warehouse. It holds fish, a lot of fish, so I found a crate I could hide under and pulled some of the fish on top of me.

For the last hour I’ve been trying not to wretch from the smell, and trying not to freeze to death. If I sleep, I might not wake up.

Writing helps keep me awake. Thinking about Bobby and hoping he’s okay. Just thinking about him in a war in Naldrin makes me so mad! Good. That keeps my heat up.

Writing helps. I love to write. Always have.

Too cold. Hard to get my fingers go

A bad day

Three of them

I’m writing this in a hurry. They just left. Three of them; an ushen (I was right!) and two humans.

All three are scoundrels, bullies, the kind of folk that really enjoy dishing out the punishment. They did a number on me. I can barely write, but I’m madder than a heolas in hell so here goes!

They keep asking me where the “stone” is. Sometimes they call it an “eye”. I don’t know what they’re talking about. The asked about my Nossring “buddies”. I told him I don’t know any Nossring. That got a fist in the face and a couple of lashes.

 —-

They came back before I expected it, so I had to stop, but getting back to it now while it’s still the same day. I think I passed out for a few minutes or maybe longer. Hard to tell when there’s no sunlight.

My jailors seem to be from Shawmancer. They were mostly speaking some kind of strong local dialect. I could pick out some of it from working with the folks at the paper. Most of the “dialogue” was non-verbal. Punching and slapping were their favorites, though they liked to kick the hell out of me if I fell down. They took that as a sign of disrespect. Metal-shod boots didn’t help. They looked familiar; a particular make. Maybe the boots of beast riders.

One of the human’s is named Torshan. The ushen called him, which got Torshan pissed, so he gave a hard jab in the ushen’s ribs. I could see it hurt the ushen. That was definitely the highlight of my day.

This “stone” that they’re looking for seems to be something powerful, and they seem to want it badly. I think for someone else; for whoever it is they work for.

—-

I think I passed out again. Not sure what time of day, or night, it is. I need to find out who they’re working for, and why they think I know where this stone is. I think it’s because of the nossring I met on the ship. There always did seem to be something more to those guys than they were saying.

No food today.

The next day

It’s busy outside!

They’ve fed me twice now. Not nearly enough. The blood on my head has dried and, as best I can tell from feeling around, the wound doesn’t seem deep. There’s no mirror in my accommodations. Oh my, I’m shocked!

The head still hurts, though. I need to see someone about that. Good luck to me!

I can’t see anything from this room. The only light I have comes through a slit in the door, so I can’t tell if it’s day or night. I sleep, but don’t know for how long. Totally lost track of the days. Damn! And, damn, again! I don’t like being kept in the dark — physically or, well, any other way!

Writing helps. Focuses the mind.

I can hear sounds from outside the room, and outside the building, or whatever it is I’m in. They’re muffled so I’m guessing I’m under street level. I could hear carts and horses and something like a small herd of animals (I think maybe phrellas) passing through and some shouting like folk driving them. It seems busy. Well, busy for Partameer, which isn’t saying a lot. I think I might be somewhere near the western edge of town. There’s phrellas ranches in that area.

My jailers aren’t very talkative. I tried getting some conversation going earlier today when they gave me my food (breakfast?). All I got in return was a grunt. I provided some choice words in response, and then I got some choice words back. Three to be precise. I’ve had better insults.

The speaker had a heavy accent. The language sounded a bit like Brutach, the native ushen language. Okay, maybe I’m getting somewhere. Just not very fast, though.

I’ve looked over the room pretty thoroughly by now. The walls are hard clay, probably over some kind of brick. Plenty sturdy, though they could use a good cleaning. The floor is hard-packed dirt. No way to dig without being noticed, but I’m trying it anyway.